"Please don't feel bad, but I was just thinking you probably are really dying to see this cabin that you've inherited."
Petula nods, giving me a small smile. Damn, she's so goddamn pretty.
I look out the window and see that Nico has finished the job and jog out to catch him before he leaves.
"Hey, man. Are you able to do one more favor?" I ask.
"Name it," he says from the plow truck's cab.
I hand him a piece of paper with Petula's cabin address. "Can you go over here and just plow her driveway so that I can bring her home?"
"You got it, bud." He gives me a wicked grin. "That's quite a cutie you have in your cabin."
I snort, shaking my head. "She literally just crashed into my place yesterday. We barely know each other."
"Well, she is easy on the eyes, man," he says, before tipping his hat and pulling out of my driveway.
An hour later, Nico texts saying that he got over to her place and plowed the driveway. I pack up leftover beef stew, a bottle of whiskey I haven't opened from my bar, plus several bundles of wood, and throw them into my truck.
"Please grab the peanut butter and that loaf of bread and the jam," I tell Petula in the kitchen.
"Are you sure? I don't want to take your food," she says.
"Don't worry about it. I went on a massive shopping trip right before the storm, and I don't want you to be hungry. And here is a bag of oranges so you don't get scurvy," I quip, and she giggles, her cheeks blushing.
Damn, this woman is beautiful.
"We can take a look at your car once the weather is better, but let's get you to your new home. I'm sure you're ready to explore it."
"Thanks, Flint," she says.
When we arrive at her cabin, I bring the bundles of wood to her front door. As I place the last one down, Petula opens the door and grins my way. Then suddenly, she wraps her arms around me in a big hug.
Stepping back, she whispers, "Thank you for everything," but I'm too distracted by my body being consumed with some sort of electric heat.
Petula's cheeks are bright red, and her eyes dip down to my lips then back up to mine. Can she feel that electricity too?
I clear my throat and give her a small wave, jumping back into my truck and pulling out before I do anything stupid. On the drive home, my body continues to buzz, but I tell myself to ignore it.
I'm sure I'm just an old man in her eyes.
6
Petula
Closing the door behind me, my head swirls as my body feels like it was set on fire. I hugged Flint spontaneously with zero thought in my head because of how much the sexy lumberjack had helped me the last two days, but I was not prepared for my body to feel this way. Leaning against the door, I look around my aunt's old cabin as my heart pounds under my ribs.
The last seventy-two hours of my life have been a batshit insane whirlwind. The thought makes me chuckle, but I shake my head and push myself to stand fully upright.
I walk into the living room and start a fire in the hearth, grumbling that I don't have the same skills as Flint. Eventually, I get a decent flame going.
I look down at my battered wedding gown, which I had thrown on again to make the journey here, and shuffle into the master bedroom. The dresser drawers are empty, which makes sense since my aunt was renting out the place. But when I dig into the back of the closet, I find several sets of sweatpants and sweatshirts she must have tucked away for whenever she stayed here on the mountain. They smell musty, but I throw on the least offensive set and dump the rest into the washer.
I walk back out into the living room and glance over at the kitchen. This cabin has an open concept similar to Flint's, and I spot the bottle of whiskey he gifted me sitting on the counter. I dig out a glass from the cabinet, the kind I grew up with in the eighties, and fill it with a healthy pour.
I settle into the rocker by the fire, put my feet up on the ottoman, and take a sip of the liquid. The color makes me think of Flint's golden-brown eyes, and I smile to myself. I'm sure I overstayed my welcome, even though he insisted otherwise. And I'm sure he has zero interest in some runaway bride from Vegas. But I'm still happy I get to see him at least one more time when I figure out what to do with my beat-up car.
I close my eyes and place the glass on the side table, slipping my hand down my sweats. My pussy has been buzzing nonstop since our hug on the front step. I begin to circle my clit as a sigh escapes my lips. I picture Flint in his Dickies and flannel shirt, looking at me with his grumpy, ruggedly handsome face.
